


Divine Guidance

by perceptivefics



Series: Homestuck XXX One-Offs [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, Light BDSM, M/M, POV Second Person, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 07:40:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13806606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perceptivefics/pseuds/perceptivefics
Summary: The Signless has a foolproof system for teaching Dualscar how to find his hideout once he abandons ship.





	Divine Guidance

**Author's Note:**

> I was asked to draw a Subscar on Tumblr, but I couldn't really get the anatomy to cooperate, and so I wrote out my idea instead. Enjoy!

“Once more. From the top.”

 

Dualscar audibly complains from his position before you, shackled to his own headboard. You hold the key, naturally, and he knows you won’t let him have it until you’re satisfied he knows the way. This isn’t exactly the most orthodox way of imparting well-guarded secrets to a highblood, but, well. Things have happened since you were dragged aboard the Orphaner’s ship. And the method happens to be one you both enjoy. Why not have a little bit of fun before you make your escape?

 

You have your fingers in his nook as deep as they’ll go, thumb stroking firmly over the soft nub of connective tissue at the base of his bulge while you thrust. It’s not enough to fill him, and it never will be, but he drips violet from the sensations all the same. His bulge is kept firmly sheathed by your hand, palm placing pressure over the opening any time it starts to wriggle out. It pushes up hard against your hand, writhing around mindlessly in the interim. When you rub against his insides and run your finger down the parting slit of his sheath, he  _ shakes,  _ breaths sharp and shallow. The begging is all in his face. He’s too proud to plead for orgasm with his mouth.

 

Until now, apparently. “Can’t I just skip to the part where I run the boat ashore?”

 

There’s a smirk on your face as you stop what you were doing. The look of utter betrayal is priceless. “And have you getting lost halfway out at sea?”

 

Dualscar lets out a throaty snarl, bucking his hips anxiously. You compensate by trapping one of his legs upright against your shoulder, arm looped around it. It changes your angle as much as it further limits his movement. “I know how to read the bloody stars, Vantas!”

 

“I know.” You say, curling your fingers just so as they’re coated in violet again. Your hands and the bed are soaked; you’ve had him edging for God knows how long, and you’re sure by the way his body is twitching that he’s sensitive to the touch. More so than the usual, at least. “Perhaps I just like to hear you talking about them.”

 

He clamps down on a moan that threatens to broil up from his chest. “Well, perhaps you’d like to save your sky-reading fetish for another time!”

 

“And what would you propose I do instead?” The question is pointed, tinged with the unspoken reminder that he’s not the one holding the key to the irons. He may be Captain aboard his vessel, but every time he sneaks you up from the hold and into his bed, you’re his Commander. And good Captains - as you are quick to remind him often - should make a habit of heeding their Commanders’ advice.

 

He either has no answer, or his answer is something he knows will be deemed unacceptable. You grind your palm in slow circles against him just to watch him buck and see his nostrils flare, eyes going alight. He glares at you with frigid violet eyes, the right one scar-blinded, while you wait him out patiently. “I asked you a question, Captain.”

 

Dualscar hisses, baring sharp, thin seadweller’s teeth. Then he proceeds to audibly choke on his own attitude as you let his bulge finally squirm free.

 

The sight of him when you wrap your hand around the base of it has you shivering where you sit, feeling a little too hot, even for you. A purr bubbles up in your throat as you smile. “Pawbeast got your tongue?”

 

“Fuck you,” he snaps.

 

“Is that your brilliant proposal, or are you just insulting me?”

 

“Maybe it is,” he grunts. He can’t keep a straight face to save his life - which would be funny, if the results weren’t absolutely delicious. Context is important: you’re jerking him off by the bulge and finger-fucking his nook, so he’s hardly in any position to look dignified. Yet he continues to try, despite the odds, bless him. “Maybe when you throw me that key I’m gonna unclap these shackles and I’m gonna be the one throwing  _ you  _ down for once.”

 

“Captain, please. Don’t be so dramatic.” You sigh, patient as the saints, kissing his inner thigh. Giving it a hard bite as you feel his muscles tremble. “I do not by any means  _ throw you down.” _

 

You think you might have heard a whimper? Was that  _ whimpering?  _ Oh, you have him on the ropes now, the poor dear. Maybe you really should wrap things up. He can’t be too much of a mess when you’re done, or he won’t be presentable to the crew, and that would be bad for the both of you. He’s done well enough, at any rate, and by the sound of his next exclamation, he really is  _ desperate. _

 

“Don’t... _ twvist _ my fuckin’  _ vwords  _ around!”

 

It’s the heavy accent of wavetongue that sends a shudder rocketing down your spine. He gets his own little reward for that in the form of you bending down and taking part of his writhing length into your mouth to suck. Suddenly it becomes less enthusiastic in movement, on account of the teeth, though there’s no diminished desire to wriggle into whatever warm and welcoming orifice it finds. Dualscar curses, groans, and lays tense against the bed. It takes little effort at all to make him hit his peak: some movement of your tongue. Liberal application of suction. Squeezing the base of his thick bulge and still working your fingers in his nook. You’re just in time to see his eyes rolling back as you pull away, thick globs of violet material spilling down your throat.

 

You don’t manage to catch all of his material, but then again, that would be almost impossible. But looking a sight, all debauched and covered in his color, isn’t exactly something you find unappealing. Dualscar certainly doesn’t mind: he grins at you while you cup a hand beneath your chin, wipe some from your face, try to clean off the worst of the mess.

 

It earns him a very stern look. “I should have you repeat it  _ twice,  _ just for that.”

 

“Kiss my ass,” he says.

 

“My dear Captain, I will do nothing of the sort.” You declare. “Now tell me once again how you mean to find the abandoned caverns.”

 

“Oh, fuck me!” Dualscar groans, throwing his head back. “I ain’t some incompetent wiggler fresh outta the caves! I know how to find you, now unchain me, you markless heathen!”

 

Your sigh is maybe a touch dramatic. Nevertheless, the key is presented with a flourish as you crawl up to face level with him to unlock the irons around his wrists. “Fine. I trust you’ve got it in your memory.” You look at him, then, giving him a playful smile. “Though just to be sure, perhaps an added incentive.”

 

_ “Why?”  _ He laughes, snorting. “You’ve gone and burned it clean in my thinkpan, lad. Ain’t much else you could add to sweeten the pot.”

 

“Maybe.” You say, “Or maybe I could fuck you proper once you run ashore at the caves.”

 

He blinks back owlishly, only somewhat caught off guard. “And that’d be different from all the other times...how?”

 

In plain words, you add, eyebrow arched: “Because it will be our first time together outside the constraints of your crew?”

 

It takes him a minute. You can see his brow furrowing as his brain struggles to catch up - though, when he does, he is  _ more  _ than intrigued. “Ohhh,” he breathes. “That’s...that’s a fine point, that is.”

 

“Indeed.” You chuckle, watching as he gets a wry, almost boyish grin on his face. Maybe there will be more like it once you’re together on land.


End file.
